


Duffle Bags

by Amuly



Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-11
Updated: 2009-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 22:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Donny is assigned to look through each Basterd's duffle bags before they start training.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duffle Bags

            As each of the Basterds arrived on location in France, Aldo assigned Donny the task of going through each of their duffle bags. Donny had resisted at first, figuring it to be grunt work, but Aldo had given him that _look_ that left no room to argue. Mumbling and swearing, Donny had agreed, and now he wasn’t too upset about it. After all, these were the men he was going to be spending a lot of time with, and going through their duffle bags was, Donny figured, the fastest way to get to know them. ‘Course, he figured he’d get to know them in the sense of which titty mags they liked. He didn’t expect some of the weird-ass shit that turned up in the duffles.

_Wicki_

“Wicki?” Donny looked up from the docket in his hands at the soldier standing in front of him.

“Yes, sir.”

“You speak kraut?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But you’re a membah of the tribe?”

“Yes, sir.”

            Donny rolled his eyes and squatted down next to the duffle at Wicki’s feet. “Fuck, Wicki, at ease. You’re gonna learn pretty fast that we’re not exactly the formal type out heah.”

            From his position on the floor Donny could see Wicki’s feet shift as he relaxed. “Uh, Sergeant. Do you mind if I ask what you are doing?”

            Donny glanced up at Wicki and waved an army invitingly. “I got orders to go through all the new recruits’ shit. Dunno exactly what I’m looking for, guess to make sure you’re not bringing along a bunch of useless baggage.”

            As Donny pulled open the drawstrings on the bag roughly, Wicki squatted down next to him. Turning the bag upside down, Donny shook everything out onto the floor. Belatedly, he turned to grin at Wicki. “Hope you didn’t have anything breakable in there.”

            Wicki pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket. “Yeah, I thought I’d bring my mom’s china with me to France,” he mumbled around the cigarette.

            Donny laughed. Alright, so this Wicki half-kraut guy seemed okay. Donny pawed through the stuff on the ground. Socks, socks, shirts, socks, normal GI stuff. Deck of cards, that was always good, to have one guy who had some on him. Carton of cigarettes; that wouldn’t last long out here unless Wicki made an effort to make it last, Donny knew that from experience. Well, this was something different… “What’s this stack of papers? It’s written in kraut.”

            Wicki didn’t even have to look at the pack to answer. “My mother’s recipes. Food out here can’t be that good, but if we wind up with some extra ingredients or spices sometimes, I can cook us a proper meal.”

            Donny raised his eyebrows and clapped Wicki on the back. Wicki chocked around the smoke from his cigarette, eyes watering. “Good man! You make sure you don’t lose this!” Donny waved the bundle of recipes in his hand, almost menacingly. Glancing down at the rest of the pile, Donny didn’t really see anything all that interesting. “Alright Wicki, you’re good. Pack up your shit and find a bunk.”

            Donny stood and stretched. Well, at least one of the Basterds knew how to cook.

_Hirschberg_

            Hirschberg’s duffle contained more of what Donny was expecting: titty mags, cigarettes, and socks. Then again, Donny was a bit surprised by the oddness of some of the mags, and the sheer quantity of them.

            “Damnit Hirschberg, you can’t bring ten pounds worth of mags with you. What the fuck you think this is, a jacking it camp? We’re in a fucking war!”

            Hirschberg glared back unabashedly. “Yeah, exactly. We’re in a war, and I don’t expect to see a woman the whole fucking time I’m out here. I need some sort of release!”

            Donny pawed through the mags, fascinated by the lurid nature of some of them. “Yeah, but do you really need ten pounds of them? Just picture some girl you got back at home and go to it. Don’t see why you need such…” Donny let one centerfold fall open. The woman was in a baseball uniform, doing…things…with a bat. “…variety. Um…hey, could I….”

            Hirschberg crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “I give you my twirls-in-sports mag, you let me keep the rest.”

            Donny was a fucking Sergeant, he wasn’t going to put up with this shit from a subordinate. “Pick five, and I get this one.”

            Hirschberg sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair. “Fine. But I’ll need a minute to decide.”

            Scooping up one other magazine, Donny thumbed through it. “Holy fucking shit, Hirschberg. What the fuck is this woman doing to that donkey?!”

            Hirschberg tried to grab the magazine out of Donny’s hands, but he shook his head. “No fucking way. I am not going to try and sleep in the asshole of Europe while you jerk it ten feet away to a fucking donkey. This one’s in the trash.”

            Hirschberg looked pained, but Donny stood firm. What the fuck was wrong with that kid? Fucking donkeys, what the fuck…

_Ulmer_

            Donny sat Indian-style on the ground. In his hands he turned over what appeared to be some sort of lock…thing. “Alright Ulmer, what the hell is this?”

            Ulmer snatched the device out of Donny’s hands. “It’s a puzzle-lock kit. It helps me practice picking locks for different sorts of locks. Look, see, this is a ward lock…” Ulmer fiddled with the device until it clicked into a sort of position. “Then I just use my tension and rake…” Ulmer produced two little pieces of metal and started fiddling around inside the device, “…and there.” The device clicked and fell open.

            Well, if that wasn’t the weirdest thing he had seen all day. Briefly Donny’s mind flashed back to Hirschberg. Okay, second weirdest. Reaching forward, Donny took the little device in his hands again and hefted it. “Well, it’s only about two or three extra pounds. And this’ll help you figure out lock picking, huh?”

            Ulmer nodded. His face breaking into a grin, Donny handed back the device. “Well, if we evah need to get into anywhere with some sorta _subtlety_ , I guess you’ll come in handy. I tend to take a door-kicking approach the whole process, usually.”

            Ulmer smiled at Donny as he packed up his things. “Well, I found there’s some doors you can’t kick in, and some doors you gotta stay quiet around.”

_Utivich_

            Figured this kid would bring books with him. He sure looked like that type, that bookish-Jew-Manhattan type. Sweeping his hands through the junk at his feet, Donny gathered the books into a bundle in his hand and started to flip through them. “These are those detective rags, aren’t they? Pulp fictions?”

            Utivich shrugged from above Donny. He lowered himself down to Donny, crouching on the balls of his feet. “They’re entertaining. Damsel in distress sort of thing, P.I. always has to rescue her, you know, that sort of thing.” 

            As Donny flipped through the different magazines, his smile widened. “Damsel in distress, huh? This damsel sure is showing a lot of leg…”

            Blushing furiously, Utivich snatched the magazines out of Donny’s hands. Donny sat there grinning, hands on his thighs. “You know Uti, not any damsels out there to save. Just krauts to kill.”

            Squaring his chin, Utivich flashed a look at Donny. “Yeah, well maybe one of you guys is going to need rescuing someday, end up being a damsel in distress.”

            Donny barked out a laugh at that. Standing, he ruffled Utivich’s hair roughly, shoving his neck to the side. “Yeah yeah, you keep thinking I’m a damsel in distress and we’ll see who the damsel is, alright Smitty?”

            Utivich scrambled to gather his stuff up off the floor and shove it back into his duffle. Cocking his head, Donny watched a patch of skin on the back of Utivich’s neck appear and disappear as his head moved around, searching the floor for his belongings. The kid wasn’t exactly unappealing, and he had that little hero streak in him, which Donny found infinitely appealing.

            Snapping himself out of his reverie, Donny smacked Utivich on the arm. “I’ll tell you the same I told Hirschberg: pick five. Leave the rest behind.”

            Straightening, Utivich slung the duffle over his shoulder and saluted. Donny lazily saluted back, reluctantly turning around and walking off. Damn, he sure wished it had been Utivich who had to turn around and walk away. Would have given him the chance to check out his ass.

_Donny_

            “Watchya mean you gotta go through my shit too?” Donny kicked at his duffle bag in a huff. He figured Aldo making him go through everyone’s duffle meant that _his_ duffle was free from that sort of scrutiny.

            “Donowitz, you best shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

            Donny rolled his eyes, but snapped his heels together and saluted sharply. “Yessir.”

            Aldo stared him down a moment longer before nodded. “Alright then son, let’s see it.”

            Jaw tight and teeth clenched, Donny pulled the drawstring on his duffle open. Grudgingly, he tipped the duffle upside down and let the contents spill out onto the floor. Donny watched Aldo paw through his stuff, and he gritted his teeth. Right bastard, going through his shit. It was _his_ shit, after all…

            “Baseball cards, socks, socks, shirt…huh?”

            Fuck. Donny shifted and gritted his teeth more. Well fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Aldo straightened, a bundled up t-shirt in hand. The t-shirt was obviously wrapped around something about the size of a brick. Aldo gave Donny a look, who stood there, cursing in his head. Wasn’t anything he could do about it now. Slowly Aldo unwrapped the t-shirt to reveal “a radio. Huh.”

            Aldo stared down at the radio, lying in a bed of t-shirt in his hand. It wasn’t anything special, just the normal type of hand-held radio every kid had in his bedroom. Aldo jutted out his jaw a moment, obviously thinking. “Well, I know you weren’t plannin’ on usin’ this for talk to krauts,” Donny started to shake his head vehemently, but Aldo just continued calmly on, “but then again, I know you don’t speak frog or kraut. So what exactly were you plannin’ on listenin’ to out there?”

            Well sink this fucker in the Charles. Shit. It was probably best to just come clean, at this point. “Heard a rumor that the limmies would be broadcasting some homegrown shit for us guys, you know, Americans. So, thought maybe they’d broadcast some baseball games sometime, and figured, yous nevah know, might get lucky and hear a Sox game one day. If they do news, I’d at least get the scores.”

            Aldo sucked at his teeth as he thought. Fucking hell, Donny figured he would have made it through this without Aldo finding out. The other Lieutenants he had been under before hadn’t found the damn thing yet. ‘Course, Donny hadn’t been able to pick up on a single game yet, but you never knew.

            Donny watched in shock as Aldo carefully folded the t-shirt back over the radio, then handed it over to him. “Can’t suppose it can really hurt, can it? You’re not about to be informin’ the enemy of our position.”

            Cockily, Donny snapped his heels and saluted. “No sir.”

_Aldo_

            “Shouldn’t I check your…”

            “No.”

            “Yessir.”


End file.
